Figuratively Infectious Joy
by carrottop187
Summary: Booth x Brennan. Seeley Booth is a 23-year old college student who makes friends with his classmate, Temperance Brennan. They make an instant connection, and their life together begins much earlier. AU/Non-canon
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

_Woods Hall….AH! Woods Hall!_ Seeley Booth silently rejoiced at the fact that he found the correct building. Now he only had to run up to the third floor, find the right lecture hall, and hope that he wouldn't cause too much of a disturbance walking into the class. As he sprinted up the stairs, he glanced at his watch, noting the time. _9:37 AM. Only seven minutes late._ Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door to room 3128.

As he burst into the room, he immediately noticed that it wasn't a lecture with hundreds of students, but instead saw twelve students at desks and a professor standing behind a lectern.

"Glad you could join us Mr. Booth. It is Mr. Booth, isn't it? I'm Dr. Warren, please, please take a seat."

Booth sheepishly grinned, and shrugged off his backpack and slid into the open seat next to the auburn-haired young woman. He quickly surveyed the room, seeing six slouched boys in hoodies, two others paying rapt attention with backs as straight as rods. There were also four women in the class room besides the one sitting next to him.

Dr. Warren continued, "As it was, you had excellent timing. We were simply introducing ourselves. I'm sure you'll manage to learn names during the semester. Please continue. Temperance, would you tell us about yourself?"  
>The girl next to him pushed her hair behind her ear and began, "My name is Temperance Brennan. I'm eighteen years old, and I'm an anthropology and biology major. I'm from Skokie, Illinois."<p>

Dr. Warren motioned for Booth to introduce himself. Booth began, "I'm Seeley Booth. I'm 23, and this is my first year back from the Army." This garnered a few slouched students to sit up, and regard him with an interested glance. "I'm a criminal justice major and I'm from Pittsburgh."

"Not a Steelers fan?" A blond boy from the opposite corner of the room piped up.

Booth grinned and nodded.

"And that is all of you. Welcome to Forensic Medicine," announced Dr. Warner. "As you know, I'm Dr. Adrian Warner and I've been teaching this course since 1990. I was expecting this class to be nearly twice as large, but I'm afraid my strict grading policy has scared off many students. This is an interdisciplinary approach to both crime-fighting and biology. I have yet to think of a clever name for biology. Those of you still here tell me what you want to do and why. If your reason is worthwhile, you will get an A in this class. I hope that all of you have a background in biology, anatomy and physiology, and chemistry, both general and organic. If not, you will undoubtedly struggle in this class."

He picked up a stack of papers and handed them to the student closest to him, a young man wearing a black hoodie. He picked one up and passed the rest. Warner continued, "This is the syllabus. There are four exams, including the final. Each exam is worth 20% of your final grade. There are four papers due throughout the semester. These are each worth 5% of your grade. I expect you to do the assigned readings, take notes on the reading, so on and so forth."

Booth picked up a copy of the syllabus before passing it on to his taciturn neighbor. She plucked it out of his hands without even glancing at him.

Warner continued speaking. He explained the class structure, and his expectations for the course. "I don't want you to get As in the class, I want you to learn. If you learn, you will get an A. That I can guarantee you. There is a reason I am the most popular professor for some students. "

Dr. Warner continued describing the syllabus, much of which Booth ignored, knowing that much of it was not relevant to him. He was not a student with special needs, and he did not have any particular religious tendencies which would force an absence. It wasn't as though it was close to spring semester where he might take a day off for Ash Wednesday or Good Friday._ He seems nice enough_, Booth thought. He imagined him to be a kindly, professor, whose eccentricities were many. His wandering thoughts and dreamy voice gave away his nature, but Booth thought wryly, _Appearances can be deceiving. _

"As you can see, it is only the beginning of the class. This class will always last until 10:45, and in the event that it does not, I will assign you learning activities which you will perform with a partner. This may seem awfully juvenile to you, but I assure you, it is for your benefit. These activities are mostly of a scientific, practical nature. This class is designed mostly for the theoretical discussion of the topic, but I think looking at a cadaver every now and then may be interesting for you. There have to be some people interested in pathology, no? Consider it an application of your skill. I hope to partner one non-scientific major with one science major, but we shall see if this is possible. After all, we wouldn't want future police officers to be mucking around in a body now do we?" His eyes twinkled merrily at this thought and he chuckled to himself.

"Forensic medicine is the analysis of how we see the effects on the body as a result of crime. There's quite a bit of pathology, anatomy, history, and law to be learnt here."

"What is forensic medicine? Quite simply, it is a strict application of biology, chemistry, anatomy, physiology, even more –ogies than we can count to solve crimes. It is the use of science in legal terms. It is the means by which we impose logic and order to the disorder of crimes. You may think that there can be orderly, logical crimes, but there is no such thing. There is no logical reason for committing crimes beyond the bounds of the law, and thus there is no logical crime. No matter how organized the killer, his mind is so disorganized that he cannot see reason."

"This course examines the medical applications to see how the human body is impacted due to violence. Forensic accountants look through number and ledgers to see where corporations flub their numbers and falsify information, and we do the same. Only, the victims of our crimes are not merely stockholders. This is the only way by which we can bring our victims a semblance of justice."

He glanced at the clock, and noted that the time was quickly slipping away. He announced, "I'm afraid our time is nearly up, and we must get a move on. Please do the reading for next class. Oh…. And bring some notes with you. I'd like to hope that you actually take notes on the material."

Booth slipped the syllabus into a folder and pushed it into his backpack. He rose from his seat, glancing that he had fifteen minutes to walk to his next class. He turned to the nearest remaining student, the same brunette he had sat next to. "Hey, uh, I'm Booth. Can you tell me how to get to … LeFrak?"

She glanced up at him with wide, wide blue eyes. "Yes. Go out the front, and go straight up until you see a staircase. Go up and go straight back until you see the building."

"Thanks. Your name's Temperance, right?"  
>"Yes."<p>

Booth held out his hand, waiting for her to shake it. "It's nice to meet you, Temperance."

Instead of shaking his hand, she looked at him quizzically and tilted her head. After a few seconds, just as Booth began retracting his hand, she grasped his hand and gave it an abrupt, shake. She quickened her pace, and walked out of the building, heading across the mall towards her destination.

Booth shook his head, and walked up the mall, relishing in the temperate, late August day. The unusually cool summer had resulted in a day perfectly suited to Booth's return from war. Though Kosovo hadn't been as unbearable as Iraq or Somalia, it had been more stressful.

He quickly made his way to the stairways she had mentioned, and climbed the stairs, heading to his next criminal justice class.

* * *

><p>After enduring a class surrounded by nearly two hundred other students, Booth was able to escape again into the sunlight. Listening to a professor drone on and on about student responsibilities and the syllabus in a dim room had very nearly put him to sleep. For over an hour, he had sat there waiting for the wrinkled, feeble-voiced professor to conclude his class. As he felt the bright sun and the cool breeze, he was much more awake. Without much regard for his surroundings, he walked into another student, causing her to stumble backwards. "OH! I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed, catching the girl by her shoulders before she could stumble back into the grass.<p>

To his surprise, it was his classmate from the morning. _Temperance,_ he thought. "Hey, it's you! I'm really sorry about bumping into you like that…"

She brushed off his greeting, "It's all right." She moved to walk by him when his words stopped her.

"Hey Temperance, you busy?"

She paused in her way, turning slightly. "I'm…" She peered at his face, seeing how he was naturally tanned, noting how his eyes sparked attractively.

"Hey, listen, it's a beautiful day, I've met a beautiful girl, it's fate right?"

She turned fully, replying, "I don't believe in fate. It's ludicrous." There was a small smile on her face, and she regarded him carefully, waiting for his response.

He smiled, twinkling his eyes charmingly. "Come on. Join me for lunch. It's my treat. It'll be a good time to figure out where it's worth eating here." He held out his hand, palms up, in an invitation.

"I should study. I have…"

"Nothing that can't wait until the second day of classes," he interrupted. "Come on. It's my first day here on this extremely large campus, and I could use a friend…" he trailed off, hoping that this girl would take pity on him and join him for lunch.

She relaxed her posture, visibly relenting to his persuasion. "All right. Uh, what would you like to do?"

He grinned down at her, admiring the way her clear blue eyes. "Lead the way."

* * *

><p>They sat in the grass on the mall feeling the slightly damp, soft blades against their legs. Her long legs, creamy pale and dotted with cinnamon freckles, were revealed by a pair of denim cut-offs. She was only wearing a tank top, which showed of swaths of delicate, freckled skin and an alluring hint of cleavage. Booth took a moment (or seven) to ogle, admiring the way they stretched out in front of her as she sat cross-legged, telling him about the history of the campus. Her voice was soft, smooth, like a taste of really expensive Scotch he'd bought himself after winning big at the poker tables in Atlantic City. It was slightly smoky, mature and Booth would have wagered that he could have spent the rest of the day just listening to her talk.<p>

Unlike all the other girls, she was wearing regular clothes, not dressed like that TV show Jared's girlfriend constantly watched. She wasn't wearing grungy overalls, over-sized plaid shirts, or any of the remnants of the earlier decade. She didn't look particularly wealthy. Her clothes were simple, without any brand names or flashy logos. Her shoes and backpack were well-used, but neatly maintained. Her hair was long and slightly wavy, falling to mid-back. Her thick bangs obscured her forehead and fell nearly into her eyes.

She had abandoned her sandals on the grass next to her, and she spoke to Booth as he reclined against his backpack. Brennan admired the way his broad shoulders were flexed, as his elbows were bent to support his torso. His muscled arms peeked out from beneath the rolled up sleeves of his striped blue and white button-down shirt. His chest narrowed to slim hips and a flat stomach, and his jeans-encased legs stretched out in front of him.

Temperance had notice how attractive he was. _How could I not_, she thought. He was one of the first people to seek her out and make friends with her. Most people only talked to her when they needed help on homework, and even then, they rarely acknowledged her after she had helped them. The man before her was an absolute stranger, and she couldn't help but to hope that he too would not be one of those academic leeches.

She was half through describing Millard Tydings' contributions to the university when he interrupted her, asking, "Tell me about yourself. I'll have another two years to learn why this Tydings guy is such a big deal, but maybe only another afternoon to get to know about you." Booth leaned back lazily, before tilting his head at her questioningly.

She tensed perceptibly, her eyes clouding, before she tersely responded, "My name is Temperance Brennan. I'm an anthropology and biology major. I'm…"

"I heard that stuff already. What's your favorite food?"

"Um…Chinese," she replied haltingly.

"Huh. I should introduce you to Thai food. I swear, one bite, and Chinese take-out will be a thing of the past. Okay, next question. What's your favorite color?"

"That's completely arbitrary. That doesn't describe anything about myself."

"My favorite color is red. Like cherry red. See, psychologists would say something about red and all that, how it's related to needing to stand out and all that. I just like the color red because it's the color of my favorite fruit. So, tell me yours."

She shrugged, "Violet, I suppose. I don't really care what psychologists have to say. It's a soft science with little bearing on actual neurological processes."

"And anthropology isn't? Isn't it all about examining cultures, and roles of people in societies?"

"That's cultural anthropology. It's more subjective, true, but people are more likely to fit into social tropes than they are to think a certain way. Besides, that's not what I want to study."

"So what do you want to do?"

Brennan looked at him, trying to determine his intents. If his only goal was to get into bed with her, then he wouldn't really care would he?_ Still_, she thought, _I ought to be at least a little wary. He's so much older than me._

"I want to study forensic anthropology. It's using physical anthropology of bones to solve crimes."

"Hey, we're a perfect match then Temperance. I want to join the FBI and become an agent, and you want to solve murders!"

She hesitantly smiled, unable to give herself into the joy he clearly displayed. She asked, "Why do you want to be an FBI agent?"

"You know, I'm a couple years older than you. About four or five, probably. I was in Penn State playing hockey when I busted my shoulder, and I lost my scholarship. After that, well I signed up for the Army. I was a part of the Rangers, and I served a couple of years there."

He paused, unsure of how much he wanted to tell her. "And, now I figured Uncle Sam can pay for college, so I might as well go. I kind of need a college degree to do anything, so I figured I might as well. I'm not an Army lifer."

"I don't know what that means."

"Which part?"

"The army lifer part."

"Oh, that just means I'm not about to spend my whole career working for the Army. There are other things I want to do."

"Oh. Like what?"

"Well, finish college for one. Then, you know, get a job, meet the woman of my dreams, get married, buy a house with a huge yard and trees big enough for a giant tree house, have three kids, a couple of dogs, you know the shtick."

"Well, that's a very post-World War II life view you have. It's very prototypically American."

"That's me. Seeley Booth. All-American. When I was in high school, I was an All-American football player you know. Quarterback of Bishop McDevitt High School."

"What does that mean?"

"It's…. you know. Never mind. It's been nearly six years since then."

"Are you very close with you Uncle Sam?"

"Wha-?" Booth gave a startled glance at her, seeing true curiosity, not sarcasm or teasing, on her face, before continuing his response. "No, Temperance, Uncle Sam is an expression. It's kind of like a figurehead representing America."

"That makes no sense. If it's supposed to inspire patriotic duty, wouldn't it be better to be a father figure?"

A shadow passed quickly over Booth's face, before it erupted in a chuckle. "See, everyone has fathers. Lots of people have fathers they love and respect. Uncle Sam is kind of like a relative you think of fondly, but who's not a parent. I don't think the guy who created him wanted him to replace father figures. And here I thought you were an All-American kind of girl," Booth teased.

"I am. American, that is, but I don't know much about popular culture or contemporary slang."

"Oh, Temperance. You and me, we have to spend a lot of time to catch you up to this century."

She peered at him, trying to gauge the sincerity of his words. Though she was no expert at reading people, Brennan only saw open honesty on his face. After all, she consoled herself, the worst thing that can happen is losing a potential friend.

Booth turned his head, feeling her stare at him. Her bangs fell into her eyes, but he could still see the turquoise staring at him, perhaps the first person to look at him innocently, without judgment, in a long, long time. The wind, which had merely teased the leaves for much of the afternoon they had spent under the sun, gusted suddenly, and a tendril of hair blew into her face.

Booth reached one palm up to her cheek, brushing away the loose strand. Under his fingers was the softest skin, covering her cheekbone and extending to the soft shell of her ear. She stared at him for a second, her expression guarded, before looking down and turning her head.

Booth pulled his hand away awkwardly, letting it hand at his side, before clearing his throat. He began, "I'm so-" just as she did.

"I real-"

They both stopped, and Brennan was blushing furiously. She continued, without making eye contact, "Go ahead."

"Listen, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that."

"No, it's okay. I'm… I was just surprised. It's unexpected…" she trailed off, awkwardly, wishing that her face would be more cooperative and stop turning beet red.

He gave her a questioning look. "No one's ever done that before? I'm sorry, I just… I wasn't thinking."

She looked up, her cheeks still rosy pink, "No, it's fine. I'm just… not used to it."

"I'm surprised."

Her eyes snapped back to his face, "What?"

He smiled, hoping to make her more comfortable. "Pretty girl like you, I'm sure all the boys hit on you in high school."

"I'm…" she exhaled and continued, "No, it's just surprising. I'm just not used to boys… well, a man, like you being interested in me."

"Is it creepy for you? I'm twenty-three, Temperance. I mean, I don't think I'm that old, but if you do…" Her short sigh stopped his rambling.

"No, it's not that big of a deal. Are you interested in me?"

Booth was slightly surprised at her bluntness. "Yes, but if you aren't I'm not going to force you to be my friend or anything."

"No. I… I like you. You seem like a genuine person. And you're more interesting that most of the people my age. You've probably experienced the alcohol-induced bacchanalia at some point. I'm frankly not interested in that."

"Temperance, you sure know the way to a guy's heart."

"Of course I do. It's between the second and sixth intercostal spaces, anterior to the vertebral column and posterior to the sternum."

He smiled, chuckling, "You sure are literal, aren't you?"

She smirked, "I am. It's much clearer this way."

"Well, here's some clarity for you, Temperance. I really like you. Can we hang out sometime?"

"By hang out, you mean make appropriate conversation to eventually lead to sexual intercourse? Yes, I would be agreeable to that."

"Wow, ok. Thinking a little ahead of the curve there."

"I assumed that what you'd like to know."

"Temperance, there are a lot of things I'd like to know before… that. Like when are you free?"

She paused. "I'm not sure. This weekend is mostly free, but…"

"It's a little far away don't you think?"

"It's six days. Or one hundred and forty-four hours. It's the approximate amount of time the Earth takes to rotate six times."

He just glanced at her.

"Too literal?"

He scrunched his nose a little and nodded in assent.

Temperance smiled a little. "How about Wednesday night? I'm teaching an introduction to anatomy discussion until 6 pm, but I could meet you somewhere."

"Uh-uh. No way. I'm the guy. I can pick you up."

"That's blatant alpha-male behavior."

"My Pops raised me to be a gentleman, Temperance. I'd never fail him," he said with a smile.

"All right. You can pick me up from LaPlata Hall at 630. It's on North Campus, behind the rec center."

"Deal." Booth smiled, his eyes twinkling in merriment. His easy happiness led her to smile back, hopeful that this friendship would be successful.

Booth unzipped his backpack, rifling through until he found a notebook. He tore off a small scrap of paper and scrawled his name and phone number down on the piece of paper. "That's my apartment phone. Most mornings, I'll be in class, but after nine at night, I should be home."

Temperance took the piece of paper, and stowed it away in her pocket. "I would give you my phone number, but I have to share that with my roommate. And she's constantly using it. I can barely remember the number as it is. I can give it to you when I see you next."

"Deal. I'm going to hold you to that." Booth glanced at his watch, noting that it was nearly time for him to return to his car and get to work.

Booth rose and dusted off imaginary grass stains from his pants. "Temperance, I have to get to work. But I'm really glad I met you." He reached a hand down to help her up. She accepted it, and he pulled her to her feet.

"Me too," she nearly whispered.

"I'm looking forward to seeing you soon."

She watched him walk up the mall, walking towards the large student parking lots, where, she presumed, his car was parked. Before disappearing from her sight, he turned, and waved, a lopsided grin still on his face.

Seeing him, she raised her hand to wave back, and couldn't help the grin from spreading across her face. _Maybe joy is infectious. Figuratively_, she thought.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Booth spent all of Tuesday morning in class, walking around from one building to the next. The previous day had been warm and sunny and he had expected more of the same. Instead, he was tugging down the sleeves of his shirt, wishing that he had thought to pull on a sweater that morning. He didn't see Temperance again until Wednesday morning, and for that he was more than a little excited. She's cute, he thought, grinning like a fool to himself. He was sitting alone in the library highlighting through his criminalistics textbook. The one good thing about going to college five years after everyone else was that he had the opportunity to grow up a little.

After his years in Iraq and then in Somalia, he had learned how to grow up the hard way. Booth no longer had the benefit of crashing on his parents' couch, drinking until dawn, or any of the frivolity of youth. Luckily, his time in the Army was paying the university fees and the books he needed. The rest he got from a part-time job as an auxiliary cop for Prince George's County.

He sat there reading about forensic procedure for law enforcement officers, surrounded by other students, some occupying the computers, others listening to Walkmans and taking notes. _I should think about getting one of those_, he considered. _Though I have no idea where I'll find the music I'll actually like. _

He flipped open his notebook and writing down some of the important points he had highlighted. He inwardly groaned at the amount of material he still had left to eat. Besides criminalistics, he had to do the reading for forensic medicine, social psychology, and law and society. _If only Temperance could be in every class, I'd have a legitimate interest in going. Though, I don't know how much attention I'd actually pay. _

He smiled wryly, enjoying the mental picture he had of her sparkling blue eyes. Her eyes were so clear and blue, and they reminded him of sea glass he had found as a kid. Leaning back against the chair, he gave himself another few minutes to daydream about the young woman who occupied his thoughts so much.

* * *

><p>On Tuesday, Temperance was anxious and unable to pay attention to anything at all. During her morning class, she had fiddled with her hair, twirling a loose curl around and round her finger. She distractedly took some notes in her book, barely paying attention to the lecture. She was in her biomechanics of movement class, learning about the basics of kinesiology in relation to human physiology. Her professor had spent the first forty-five minutes talking about the syllabus and other miscellaneous details related to the day-to-day dealings of the class.<p>

During those minutes, she had gazed off into the distance absently, lightly pursing her lips as her thoughts remained on Booth. He was more than physical attractive. She had immediately recognized the ideal breadth of his shoulders, slip hips and long legs when he had walked into the classroom. In a quiet moment during the forensic medicine class, she observed his face, noting how symmetrical his features, were. When they were talking in front of the South Campus Diner, she had noticed his warm, coffee-colored eyes which shone charmingly in the sunlight. His smile split his face open, wide and reassuring. _He's very good looking_, she thought appreciatively. Temperance tilted her head slightly, her thoughts wandering even further from the kinesiology class.

More than just his appearance, she had noticed the sincerity in his smiles. She wasn't the best judge of people or their intentions, but she felt immediately at ease with him. Not once in their hours-long interaction had she felt an instinctual response to avoid him. She never felt uncomfortable with him, even though they were several years apart in age. She smiled a little, remembering his warm smiles and gentle palm against her cheek.

Belatedly, Temperance realized that the people around her were getting up and preparing to leave the lecture hall. She quickly shoved her notebook and pen into her bag before swinging it onto her shoulder.

She made her way to her biochem class, where she again scarcely paid attention to the professor reviewing the material covered in the class.

_I'm not missing much, I suppose, _she reassured herself. _They're only talking about syllabi, and other non-essential material that I don't need to worry about. _

She didn't really understand or know why her thoughts were occupied so much by the man she had met the previous day. She had never had her thoughts so occupied by another person, let alone a man that much. _This must be what it's like to have a teenage crush. I'm glad I'm finally experiencing what it feels like to be a teenager. _

She was eagerly anticipating seeing him again. She would see him tomorrow morning, in the forensic medicine class. Unfortunately, she couldn't talk to him or interact with him very much in a class as small as that.

As soon as the class ended, she packed up her belonging and trekked back to her room. It was only 12:30. At 2:00, she had another class, but had no interest in sitting in the library taking notes on a subject to which she could barely pay attention. Temperance lay in her bed, feeling the cool sheets under her fingertips. Without bothering to change out of her clothes, she took a small nap, her mind filled with the pleasant thoughts of a man she had just met.

* * *

><p>When she woke up, she dropped her head back to the pillow with a moan. Temperance had missed the first day of her lab for biochemistry, and she would have to hurry just to be on time for work. She pulled on a sweater and grabbed an umbrella from the hook. She picked up her bag and headed to the Diner behind her building. She rushed down the stairs and towards the building.<p>

The Diner was the main dining hall for north campus and it served most of the residential students. She grabbed a tray off the stack and a fork and knife. She went to the salad bar and filled a bowl with vegetables. Finding the bottle of Italian dressing, she poured some into the bowl. Temperance headed over to the pizza and pasta line, picking up a piece of garlic bread. She grabbed an apple from the coolers and filled a glass with water before heading over to the checkout. As she waited in line with her tray, she hoped that her date with Booth tomorrow would go well.

Unknown to Booth, this would be her first serious relationship. Besides a few date requests to high school dances, she had never had boyfriends or real dates.

Glancing at her watch, she told herself that she would end her tutoring session early today to make time to finish her preparations for the discussion section she was teaching later tomorrow. _I should also make time to set aside an outfit with what I can find._

* * *

><p>That night, Booth came home from work and began unbuttoning his uniform shirt. In the entryway, he toed off his shoes and dropped his backpack right next to the coat closet. He tugged open the buttons, pulling the gray, slightly damp shirt off his frame. As he had walked from the station back to his car, Booth had been caught in a slight drizzle and the chilly mist had soon turned his crisp shirt and pants into sodden garments. He sighed. Sometime soon, he'd have to do laundry. He padded into his bedroom, picking up a pair of boxers and a stray undershirt before picking up the laundry hamper.<p>

He carried the basket into the small closet housing the washer and dryer. He emptied the basket into the washer, and dumped the remnants of the laundry detergent bottle into the washer. _Another thing I need to remember to buy_, he noted. As the water began flowing into the washer, Booth noted that his favorite shirt was still draped over the back of a chair in his bedroom.

"It'd be nice to look good tomorrow," he murmured.

Quickly, he stepped into his bedroom and grabbed the shirt and tossed it into the washer. He closed the lid again, and listened to the rhythmic swirling of the water and clothes in the washer. In another thirty minutes, the clothes would be ready for the drier.

He walked into the kitchen, feeling the chilly linoleum under his feet even through his socks. He tugged open the fridge door, noting with a frown how little groceries there were inside. _I can't keep getting takeout. I barely have time to hit the gym, not to mention easy cash in my wallet._

Booth grabbed a carton of milk, happy that it was still fresh, and swigged it straight out of the container. He pulled two slices of bread out of the bag and pulled out the fixings for a sandwich. He piled on some deli turkey and cheese before slathering mayo on one of the slices and pressing the two halves of the sandwich together. He took the knife and wiped it clean on a paper towel before slicing the sandwich in half. Glancing at the oven timer, he noted that it was nearing 9:30. _Better put some coffee on if I want to finish my homework. _He flicked on the coffee maker his grandfather had given him when he had moved in, letting the water still in the tank percolate into the carafe.

He took his sandwich and the carton of milk into the small living space where there was a small table where he could eat or do work. He placed the plate holding his sandwich down before going to pick up his backpack from the entrance. He pulled open the zipper and fished out the notebook and textbook for his forensic medicine course.

He sat down for the night, and he pulled off the cap of a blue pen before beginning his work for the night.

* * *

><p>Temperance rifled through her closet, huffing in frustration at the lack of girly clothes in her closet. Years in foster care had reduced her wardrobe to bare necessities. <em>I don't even have the time to go to the mall and find something nice to wear.<em>

With great reluctance, Temperance opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. There were few girls on her floor of similar size and height. She was slim and long-limbed, unlike most of the petite girls on her floor. Of the forty-odd girls on the floor, she knew only one who was about the same size as her. Angela was a pretty brunette, studying art or something like that. She was trendy and fashionable with an eclectic sense of style.

She hesitantly tapped on the door, hoping that Angela would respond. Angela's roommate was strange, even in comparison to Temperance.

Angela whipped the door open, smiling widely. "Hey sweetie! You're Temperance right? It's so nice that you finally came to say 'hi!' I'm glad to meet you. I'm Angela Montenegro. What's up?"

Temperance began hesitantly, "It's very nice to meet you too. I have a favor to ask of you."

"Sure, honey, whatever I can do."

"I have a date tomorrow evening. And it's my first date."

"First date with this guy? That's so nice."

"No…" Temperance responded, "It's more like my first, first date. Ever."

"Ahhhh!" Angela squealed excitedly. "Oh my gosh, that is fantastic. I'm guessing you'd like a little help with getting ready, make up and all that."

"Yes," Temperance replied, perceptibly relieved that she had made her point across with so little difficulty. "I could really use your help."

"Yes, I'd love to help you. Growing up, I always wanted a sister, and you can be like my sister! I'm so glad you asked me for help!"

Temperance was relaxing in the gregarious, energetic presence of Angela, smiling sweetly at her unabashed enthusiasm.

Angela ushered her into the room, pulling open the closet door as she closed the hall door. She revealed a closet full of dresses and trendy tops all with bright colors, tribal prints, or elaborate detailing. "Honey, do you need a dress?"

"Yes, if it's not an inconvenience."

"Oh please. I sometimes end up buying things and then I realize I haven't worn it more than once or twice. Take your pick. There's tons of things in there. The only thing I don't have is pencil skirts. I'm not so big into the whole Stepford-wife style thing."

Temperance slightly envied Angela for being able to spend money without analyzing the costs, other responsibilities. Though the National Merit Scholarship and the school-awarded funding covered most of her living expenses, Temperance had to work as a teaching assistant and tutor in the evening to afford clothes and toiletries not sold in the campus shops. Without reacting to Angela's closet and revelation, Temperance replied in her usual confused tone, "I don't know what that means."

"There's this movie about 1950s America, which is all about the perfect wives and homemakers. They wear these horribly sucky dresses and skirts all the time."

"I see. I have seen pictures of women from that age, and I agree that their lifestyle wasn't the most liberating."

Angela gasped and pulled out a red dress. "Oh, sweetie, this will be perfect. Here, try it on."

Temperance nervously gestured. "Should I go to my room?"

Angela shrugged, "Bren, if you're comfortable go ahead. After all, there's nothing you have that I don't have. Well, in terms of women-parts anyways."

Temperance gave a small smile before shucking her shorts and tank top. She pulled on the red dress. She tugged down the fabric, and went to the mirror to view her reflection. The red tank dress was made of a stretchy, slightly shiny material. The back was half bare, made up of crisscrossing straps, which left half her back bare. While it was suitably alluring, she couldn't imagine wearing a sultry dress after those lovely, innocent moments she had shared with Booth.

"Angela, this is really nice, but I think it's a little too revealing for my taste. When I met him, it was like a fairy tale. This is too sultry for what he and I have shared."

"I get it. Maybe something in blue to match your eyes. Angela pushed aside another set of tops and dresses to fish out a light sun-dress. It was light aqua blue with thin white and navy stripes along the bottom edge. The dress was sleeveless and had a sweet bateau neckline. The dressed nipped in at the waist with a navy blue band, and an a-line skirt flowed out and reached her knees.

Temperance pulled it off the hanger and unzipped it on the side. She slipped it over her head and slid her arms in. Angela quickly reached over and zipped it up. The blue of the dress perfectly complimented her eyes and highlighted her tiny waist.

Angela gasped. "Oh wow! You look gorgeous honey! I barely even remember this dress. Why don't you keep it?"

Temperance demurred, "No, I couldn't possibly do that."

"Oh, please, Bren. You look better in this than I ever would. You have fantastic boobs and a teeny tiny waist. You make this dress look fabulous. I couldn't possibly do it justice. Keep it. Please. You'll be dong me a favor. Do you have shoes to match? Hang on…"

Temperance protested, feeling awkward as a girl, practically a stranger, was going out of her way to get her ready for her date.

Angela continued rambling about shoes and jewelry while digging through her closet. She finally pulled her head out after retrieving a pair of wedges. "I sure hope you're a size eight. "

"Angela!" Temperance's exclamation startled Angela out of her rambling, and she paused. "Angela," she continued, "I'm a size nine. I have a pair of white flats which should do match fine."

"All right. But me and you honey? We have to go shopping sometime soon."

Temperance smiled at the warm enthusiasm Angela radiated. Angela replied with her own grin.

"So tell me all about this boy of yours."

"Well, he's not really a boy."

"Honey, please tell me he's not a skeevy old guy or anything. I understand that you're an adult and we all like different sorts of people, but whoo, tell me he's close to your age."

Temperance laughed, "Angela, he's only twenty-three. Not someone old enough to be my father!"

The two girls laughed and spent the next hour discussing Temperance's upcoming date. At close to midnight, Brennan walked out of the room and down the hall back to her own room with a smile on her face. In a span of two days, she'd made two friends who were different from most other people she had known over the past few years.

* * *

><p>The next day, the weather had remained a cool drizzle, lightly soaking Booth as he briskly walked from the parking lot to Woods Hall. He had forgotten to buy an umbrella when he moved into his apartment, and hadn't remembered to wear a jacket with a hood. He pulled his jacket tighter around his torso, zipping it up to keep more of the driving wind off his body.<p>

Booth shoved a hand through his hair, mussing the strands he had carefully arranged thirty minutes earlier. His efforts t look good for Temperance this morning had not progressed well: his hair was melting and plastered to his head due to the rain, he had nicked his chin twice while shaving, and spilled half a bottle of aftershave on himself. By the time he left the door, he was nearly infuriated. An entire morning with little going right was no improvement to his mood.

Though he was frustrated, he schooled his features and took a deep breath before entering Woods Hall. As he briskly walked up the stairs, he ran into one of the other students in the forensic medicine class. With a slight head nod and a raised hand, Booth greeted the other young man. Without much conversation, they walked down the hallway to the classroom. When he walked into the room, he noted that the chairs had been pushed against the wall, forming a half circle with a desk with a lectern at one end.

He noted the empty seat next to Brennan and quickly claimed it, though it was uncomfortably close to the professor's desk. He pushed his backpack off his shoulders and shrugged off his jacket before draping it over the back of the chair. "Hey," he murmured, smiling slightly.

"Hello," she whispered back, gently smiling back to him. He noted how her eyes were shining brightly back at him, the clear blue morphing into a warmer shade.

This morning, she seemed a little different, but in definitely a good way. She seemed, prettier, if anything. Her Unbeknownst to him, she had gone to the convenience store close to her dorm, picking up blush, mascara and eyeliner. With a little help from Angela, she learned how to make up her face naturally. With a little brown eyeliner and some mascara, she had made her eyes brighter. The blush created a natural flush on her face, attractively bringing a glow to her naturally pale skin. Her hair had a slight curl at the ends, something which Angela had insisted on doing, even though it meant Angela had had to wake up much before her first class.

As she left her room, she had regarded her face with admiration for Angela's advice and handiwork.

_Still five minutes before class starts_. Other students had started filing in and Booth mentally filed away images of their faces for future purposes. He turned and whispered to Temperance, "Hey. I'm looking forward to tonight."

She flushed prettily, replying, "Me too." She met his eyes shyly, feeling his tiny, but warm smile create nervous tension in her abdomen.

When Dr. Warner walked in, Booth reluctantly tore his eyes away from Temperance, trying to pay attention to what the professor had begun to say.

Through the class, Booth took notes sporadically, adding little memos to the sides of the notes he had taken last night. As Warner scribbled down key terms on the chalkboard, Booth surreptitiously glanced at Temperance, and noted that she was giving him the same sidelong glance. Over the hour-long period that Dr. Warner was lecturing, Booth paid only the minimal amount of attention to remain active in the class. He noted other students raising their hands, participating in discussion. He found that he could barely pay attention to the issues other students raised. _I don't think that this is a good start to the semester. _

When Dr. Warner ended the class, a few minutes before the designated end of the class, he passed out a few sheets which Booth inferred to be the homework mentioned on the syllabus. He noted, dismayed, that the homework was stapled together, a thick packet of readings and associated questions.

As he walked out the door, in tandem with Temperance, he quickly grasped her hand and pulled her off to the side. As they stepped into an alcove watching the stream of students pass by, Booth finally spoke.

"Hey. I'll pick you up tonight. I can't meet you after Crim, but I'll see you at 6:30?"

She quickly squeezed his hand, "Yeah. I'll see you then. I have to rush though. My next class is a little far away."

As she walked away with a little smile, Booth watched her long legs, today in khaki shorts, walk away into the sunlight.

* * *

><p>Temperance was speaking to a class of twenty or so students, most of them disinterestedly picking at papers, clicking pens, or distracting themselves through the two-hour long class. With great impatience, she concluded the class in advance of the regular schedule.<p>

"We only have thirteen minutes left. Please read your lab manuals. When Dr. Wallace is lecturing, he would prefer that students have notes beforehand and then add notes during class, rather than focus mainly on their notebooks. Please take notes of chapter one and chapter two, sections one and two. That will be the material for next Monday's class. If you have any questions, please let me know."

Temperance patiently waited until the students shuffled out, some mumbling farewells as they passed out of the door. She impatiently pulled on her backpack, rushing out of the classroom, barely remembering to lock it before hurriedly making her way out of H.J. Patterson Hall. She crossed the street and made her way back to her room. With a quick look at her watch, she had another forty-five minutes until Booth came to pick her up. It would take another ten minutes to walk back to her room, and then would have a little time before meeting Booth outside her room.

She swiped into the residence building, impatiently tapping her foot against the tile floor as she waited for the elevator. When it arrived, some students shuffled out, likely making her way out to the Diner for dinner. She walked in with a few other students, requesting that the student closest to the controls push the button for the sixth floor. She quickly left the elevator, walking briskly to her room. _6:00 pm_. She pulled out the hanger holding her dress.

Pulling off her tee-shirt, she deposited it quickly into her hamper. She unbuttoned and pulled off her khaki shorts and folded them before placing it back into her dresser. Temperance quickly snapped off her bra, switching from a utilitarian, cotton bra to a satiny, push-up. I wish I had more alluring lingerie. I should probably get some before…

Her mind trailed off, and she shook her head, clearing her thoughts. Pulling the blush-bronzer combination and mascara she had bought last night, she pulled out the puff and quickly dusted on some of the bronzer across of the apples of her cheeks. She highlighted the center of her forehead and her chin, dusting the loose, shimmery powder lightly over her dewy skin. Closing up the compact, she placed it back on her dresser and quickly unscrewed the top off the mascara tube. She took the wand and wiggled it over her eye lashes the way Angela had taught her last night.

Satisfied with her appearance, she put away the few cosmetics she owned and spritzed her skin with the perfume her social worker had given her after her graduation. She loved the citrusy and vanilla scent of the perfume, loved the way it made her feel more feminine and sensual.

She unzipped the blue dress Angela had given her last night, pulling it off the wood hanger. She slipped it over her head, feeling the smooth fabric of the lining over her bare skin. She zipped up the zipper under her arm and smoothed out the bodice and the skirt of the dress. She loved the way the dress accentuated her waist and made her feel more womanly. With the addition of the bra, she appeared to have an ideal, hourglass figure.

With a gasp of dismay, she noted that in ten more minutes, Booth was supposed to pick her up. Quickly, she pulled on a pair of white flats she had gotten from her last foster family, a kindly couple with no children of their own. She found a white cardigan in her closet and walked out to the hallway. After locking her door and checking that she had her room key, student ID, and her wallet in a small purse, she walked down the hallway towards the elevator. She pressed the call button and rode the elevator down to the main lobby. Temperance slid her arms into the sweater, allowing it to drape over her torso. She pulled on the strap of the purse over her shoulder and walked out into the damp, cool evening.

She saw a dark blue sedan pull up in front of her building, seeing Booth inside. As he clicked on his flashers, allowing other vehicles to move around him, he smiled through the vehicle glass of his window at her. She stepped over to the other side of the car, pulling the door open.

"Hey. You look… Wow. You look great, Temperance."

She blushed in the waning light, her hair catching the sunlight and taking on a reddish glow. "You too. You look very handsome tonight. Well, you look very handsome all the time, but I'm…"

"Thanks. You look beautiful all the time, too. I just meant you look amazing tonight. Not that you don't always look good. Here," Booth reached into the backseat, pulling out a single white daisy wrapped in green tissue paper.

"Thank you. This… Daisies are my favorite flower. Thank you." She smiled at him, touched at his gesture.

"Shall we go?" Booth placed his hand on the gear box, intending to pull forward. Temperance hesitantly placed her hand over his. He flicked his eyes up to her face, surprised that she had initiated contact. He regarded her smiling visage curiously. Her smile spread, showing her teeth in a happy grin.

"Yes."

* * *

><p>AN: I know Brennan seems out of character, day-dreaming about Booth, but I'd like to think that she's just as much of a girl as anyone else. After all, her high school years were plagued with social tensions and her family problems. College may have been her first opportunity to act as a normal girl would. I think she has the same desires as any other girl her age, but her experiences in the TV narrative have impacted her character. This is not a situation where the exact characteristics of Brennan in the TV series are transplanted into a different scenario. It's more like hitting a psychological rewind of both characters. Booth, similarly, doesn't carry the emotional burdens of Kosovo, separating from Rebecca during her pregnancy, etc.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Booth pushed the gear shift into drive, and slowly signaled into the flow of traffic. He turned his head, and smiled at Temperance. In the salmon sky of evening, the backdrop cast a warm glow on her skin, tinting it an attractive shade of pink.

He twisted the car through the narrow roads of campus and headed towards Route 193. As he left campus, he asked, "So, you're a TA for a class?"

"Yes, Skeletal and muscular anatomy. It's a class which I greatly enjoyed." Temperance had slowly pulled her hand away from his, placing it in her lap, brushing out invisible wrinkles. She slid her fingers over the smooth viscose of the skirt, brushing the material covering her knees.

Booth's hand returned to the steering wheel, absently drumming his fingers along the neoprene cover.

"You know, I should call you 'Bones.'"

"Why? I have a name. Temperance Brennan. "

"I know. And Temperance is a wonderful name. It's just a little long and you need a nickname."

"What about you? You prefer that people call you Booth? Why not Seeley?"

He absently shrugged. "Eh, it just seems like a strange name. It's not very normal. And it kind of sounds like a girl's name. "

"It means beloved. Anthropologically, I can understand the desire for a parent to reaffirm their love for their children. "

Booth shrugged, brushing off the implicit question by changing the topic. "So, are you from Maryland?"

Temperance replied, "No, I'm from Skokie, Illinois. It's a small town a little in the suburbs of Chicago."

"Why did you choose Maryland then? The impression I get is that you're pretty smart."

"It has a great anthropology department, and it's located really close to the Jeffersonian. I want to work there later."

"Really? In the museums, like a curator or something?"

"Believe it or not, the Jeffersonian is a renowned research institution. There is a large lab which does much of the background work for the museums."

"Sounds great. I'm pretty glad you decided to go to Maryland."

She turned her head, and looked at Booth questioningly. "Why is that?"  
>"Well, I would have never met you if you'd gone some place closer to home, right?" Booth smiled back at her.<p>

That man should not be allowed to his dimples that way. He's far too enticing this way. Temperance cleared her throat, and asked, "So, where are we going anyways?"  
>He replied, "Don't worry, you'll like it. It's a cute little place that one of the guys I work with recommended. It's just a little further away." Within a few seconds, Booth signaled into the turn lane and turned left into a little lot in front of a small restaurant.<p>

_ Chef's Secret?_ Temperance wondered what kind of food it was. She had never seen the place, though it was a scant ten minutes away from campus. As soon as Booth stopped, he clicked off his seatbelt and threw the car into park.

Booth quickly unlocked and opened his door as Temperance was unbuckling her seat belt and he jogged around the front of his car to open her car door.

"I am capable of opening my own door Booth." She stepped out, and pulled her cardigan a little closer to her body. She slipped her purse back over her arm and brushed down her skirt after a slight gust of wind. The evening had cooled rapidly, and as per Maryland weather, had shifted into a cloudy, starless night.

"Bones, this is just something guys do. I hope you'll like this place. It's kind of a general Asian restaurant. I know you like Chinese food, so I figured you'd like this place." With a gentle hand on the small of her back, he led her to the restaurant's entrance. He pulled open the door, holding it open for her as she stepped in to the warmer restaurant, out of the cooler night.

"Don't call me Bones!" she retorted in mock indignation. She walked in, taking note of the opulent setting, decorated richly with Asian motifs. As her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting inside the restaurant, she saw a detailed jade sculpture on the register, A dozen or so tables were lined up in the middle of the restaurant and the edges were lined with booths. A middle-aged Asian man walked up to them and asked them to follow him to a booth for two. _Booth in a booth,_ she thought, appreciating the interesting juxtaposition. When they were seated, he presented them with two menus, and asked if they would like to order any drinks. As he walked away with their drink order, Temperance shrugged off her sweater, pulling off the light cardigan.

"Why did _you_ choose Maryland?" she asked.

"Well, I grew up near Harrisburg, and that was about as close to Penn State as I wanted to go. Rutgers wasn't too appealing of a choice either. I went to Pitt for one year, and I thought a change would be nice. This was the only college I was interested in, in the end."

The waiter stopped at their table, dropping off their drinks: a Coke for Booth and water for Temperance. She picked up her straw and absently pushed around a few ice cubes in her glass. Booth picked up his glass, taking a slow drink of the sugary beverage.

"Why did you leave Pitt? I'm assuming you are referring to the University of Pittsburgh," Temperance asked,

"Yeah. I got a football scholarship there. I played for one season as a reserve quarterback, and then I blew out my shoulder. The doctors said that the physical therapy itself would take several months. By this time, I was released from my scholarship, and I couldn't stay in college."

"I see. That's when you joined the Army?"  
>"Yeah. Couple years later, I'm off to Iraq, the Somalia, and then home for a little bit, right?"<p>

"Hopefully, the Army doesn't have too many more altercations with other countries?"

Booth grinned. "Oh yeah? Why is that?"

Temperance dropped her eyes from his face, choosing instead to study the wood grain of the table. She traced the brown lines of the wood, circling her finger around a knot in the grain. Finally, she responded, "No reason. Just because."

"Really?" Booth teased. "Are you sure you don't have any other reasons?"

She turned her eyes away from his, regarding the menu analytically. She raised one hand to brush a curl behind her ear. As she did so, the warm light of the lantern on the table cast a friendly glow on the lock of hair. She finally responded, "It is highly important to continue one's education, Booth."

In this dimmed light, she looked far different from the sunlight or the fluorescent lights of a classroom. Her hair had a golden shine, turning the usually auburn shade into a nutty brown, catching the golden flecks and bringing them forth. Her eyes, too, had taken on a different shade. They appeared greener, and if possible, even clear which was slightly startling to Booth. He had seen his fair share of blondes (especially cheerleaders) with their green and blue eyes, but none as striking as hers.

"So what do you want to get?" Booth asked, breaking the comfortable silence between them.

She looked up from the menu, even though she had barely paid attention to the words on it. "I'm… I'm not really sure. I've never had Thai food, so I really don't know what to expect."

"Ha, that was my first experience. I served with this guy from Jersey whose mom was from Vietnam. When I went to visit him after our first tour, we went to this place where they had like a whole Asian buffet. That was really my first time."

Booth chuckled with ease, his dimples creating attractive shadows on his face.

Temperance, too, was observing him, though under the guise of reading her menu. She noted his strong arms, only lightly covered by a dark dress shirt. He had opted to leave a few buttons open, giving her a glimpse of tanned, smooth skin. In the lamp-light, his eyes were darker, but by no means seemed more dangerous. His open smiles and carefree manner were encouraging her to lighten up, and let go of her usual reserve.

Booth continued, "I guess it really depends on what you like. If you're into spicy food, then the curries are pretty good. But hey, I'm partial."

Temperance glanced up, "Well, tell me what you like and help me decide."

"Alright," Booth smirked. "Don't blame me if it's a little too hot for you."

"I can handle it," she quipped back.

"I usually get the beef red curry."

At this, she made a face. "I don't eat red meat Booth."

"Which is why, luckily for you, they make it with chicken."

Temperance smiled. "I did read that, believe it or not."

Booth smiled before suggesting that the two of them share an appetizer. They quickly decided on an appetizer. When Booth was still perusing the menu after placing their order, he felt his skin tingle as though someone was watching him. When he looked up, he noticed that Temperance was looking at him with her head tilted, studying him almost curiously.

"What, do I have spinach in my teeth?" Booth joked.

"Wha… No. I'm sorry. I was just observing you."

"And what were your observations, Bones?"

"Don't call me Bones! And you have very symmetrical features. You are very highly above average for society."

"Is that a good thing?"

"Of course it is. Symmetry in facial features is indicative of many things, foremost being the attractiveness of the subject."

"Then this subject says thank you."

"You're welcome. But I was just stating a fact. It wasn't inherently complementary."

"Well, thank you for informing me. You are quite symmetrical yourself."

"Yes, I know. One of the TAs for my anthropology class told me that."

"But did he tell you that you're gorgeous?" Booth asked.

"No, that's not true. Gorgeous is a subjective determination. Symmetry is not."

"Bones, from where I'm standing, you're pretty gorgeous to me."

"You're not standing, you're seated. And thank you."

"Has anyone ever told you that you can be too literal?" Booth was fascinated by this young woman, so different than her peers. She was not like those studious girls, most of who had taken up studies in pre-med majors or engineering. She wasn't a vapid girl interested only in clothes and barely passing their classes.

"Yes, but I have found that being figurative leads to confusing conversation."

Booth smiled. "Sometimes, Bones, it's not about the conversation being clear."

Temperance tilted her head, speculating about his words. "I find that I don't understand that statement, but I appreciate it nonetheless."

Booth chuckled. "What do you like to do?"

"That's a very broad question."

"In your free time."

"Oh, in that case, I like to read anthropology journals. I also like reading articles on the effects of physical impact on the bones. And I admit, I'm fascinated by isotope analysis of bones to determine origin of the bones."

"Bones, that's not what you do for fun. It's things you do which don't involve the use of a highlighter."

"I admit, I have been contemplating writing a book based on a forensic anthropologist helping police solve a murder."

"Hey, you can base the cop after me. We can be the real-life inspiration for your books."

"Booth, the book is not based on the characters. It's based on science and the analysis of the bones to determine cause of death."

"Bones, just a suggestion here, but science only sells a couple of books. If you want to sell a couple million, you may have to add a little sex and violence in there."

"Why? Those are irrelevant to the story line."

"I know Bones, but people can relate to the characters, and they'll read the book that way. They are more likely to read a book with lots of sex and violence than they are one with a lot of science."

"I don't want to create a romance novel, Booth. I want to write a fictional story with real science."

"Bones, think of it this way. If you want to expose more people to science, add a little oomph and people will read the book. It's like taking a spoonful of sugar to make the medicine go down. The medicine is the science, the sex is the sugar."

Temperance considered his words and nodded. "I see what you mean. But I'm not very good with interpersonal interactions. And I have…. No experience," she exhaled. After pausing, she gave a sharp laugh, "I have no experience sexually." Brennan flushed prettily, embarrassed at what her words revealed. She dropped her eyes, taking a deep interest in the details of the wood grained tabletop.

Booth flushed too, his tanned skin turning rosy under the heat of her gaze and the meaning behind her words. He reluctantly stammered, "Well, it was probably a bad idea anyways. After all, there's too much sex on TV anyways. People need something clean right?"

She smiled up at him, shyly looking back up at him. "I suppose. But I will take your ideas under consideration."

As their food arrived, their conversation lulled to comments about the food. Temperance complimented his choice, loving the crab and vegetable stuffed shrimp. With its delicate flavors and the spices and garlic highlighting the taste of the seafood, it was something both ate with gusto. As they nearly finished the plate, there was one piece left.

Booth reached for it and made a move to place it in his mouth, before reaching the stuffed shrimp and his arm across the table and towards Temperance. She tilted her head back and opened her mouth to speak, and before she could get any words out, she found her mouth full with the juicy morsel. Booth grinned, clearly enjoying the pleasure he saw on her face as she savored the treat.

After she chewed and swallowed, Temperance spoke. "Thanks Booth."

Booth simply smiled and took a sip of his drink.

* * *

><p>During the evening, Booth and Temperance received their entrees and savored the flavors of each. Over dinner, their conversation ranged from inane topics about their musical tastes to more serious ones about their life plans.<p>

Booth revealed that he wanted to join the FBI and take a more conventional job.

After much discussion about their plans and lives, they finished their meals. After much coercion on Booth's part, Temperance chose to get the sticky rice with mango for dessert, though only under the promise that he share it with her.

As they enjoyed the flavorful dessert, Brennan smiled, enjoying how she could feel free to be herself around this man she had only met a few days earlier.

Booth sat back, full, with not only food, but also happiness at how their first date had gone. He smiled at her, and she happily smiled back at his enthusiastic grins.

When the check arrived, Booth and Temperance tangled over it. Though, Booth won eventually, it was after he promised her that she could get the next check. The promise of another date startled her into silence, and he placed his card

After leaving their table, Booth grabbed a peppermint out of the bowl where they were held. He slipped it out of the cellophane wrapper and slipped it in his mouth before leading Temperance with a gentle hand on the small of her back. They walked back to his car and he unlocked the car.

Much to his regret, she pulled away from him and stepped to the passenger door by herself. As they both sat in the car, Booth turned it on and backed it out of the parking spot. He turned into the main road and made his way back towards campus.

* * *

><p>As he turned onto campus, Booth turned to Temperance reluctantly. "I really enjoyed tonight," he commented.<p>

She smiled back at him, "Me too. I agree, with you by the way."

"What about?"

"You told me when we met that I would enjoy Thai food. You were correct. I did like the food very much."

"I'm glad."

"Although…."

"Come on Bones, don't give me that. You know you loved it." Booth signaled to turn towards her dorm, nosing the car through the narrow road beside the recreation center.

"I just meant, although I liked the food, I liked my company more." She shyly turned her head, looking out the window as she waited for his response.

Booth was absolutely floored by her statement, before he proudly smirked. "I'm glad, Bones." As he pulled in front of her dorm building, he parked the car and helped her out of the car. When she stepped out, he pulled her into his arms, enveloping her in a gentle one-armed hug. They walked up the stairs together.

"Is this part of the same chivalric code that requires that you walk me back to my door?"

"Hey, Bones, this is PG County. You can never be too safe."

The pair climbed the stairs leading up to the main entrance of the building. She swiped her card at the door, and watched it click open. Booth reluctantly released her, watching her open the heavy door. She turned, raising her hand in good bye.

Before the door could shut behind her, Booth grabbed the handle, stepping into the entrance area of her building. Temperance turned around, startled at his presence behind her. "Booth?"  
>"There's something I forgot to do." With this, he tilted his head, brushing his lips across hers.<p>

Her eyes fell closed, and she reached an arm up, curling her arm around his neck, pulling his head closer to hers.

He breathed her in, smelling her delicate scent. He clasped his arm across her waist, pulling her body closer to his. After a few seconds, he was running out of oxygen, and he was

Flushed, they both pulled apart, breathing deeply as they searched the other's eyes. She smiled a little. "Thank you. That was very nice."

Booth rested his forehead against hers and grinned around her. "I'm glad you liked it. I did, too."

Reluctantly, he released her waist, but grabbed her hand. Giving it a quick squeeze, Booth stepped away from Temperance and turned to walk out the door.

As he re-entered the cool night, he smiled to himself, feeling the slight tingling in his lips as he remembered their first kiss. As he jogged down the steps to his car, he hoped that she was as enthusiastic about where this was going as he was.

* * *

><p>Temperance was no better off. As she waited for the elevator to take her to her floor, she smiled to herself, feeling the kiss against her slightly kiss-plumped lips. She was alone in the elevator and tentatively reached a hand up to feel her face, knowing that she was pink and flushed. As the elevator dinged to let her know that she had reached her floor, Temperance stepped and walked toward her room. When she reached her door, she saw that it was open and noted that her roommate must be inside.<p>

As she stepped in, she noted the bottles of cheap alcohol scattered around the room. Several boys and girls all dressed provocatively and seemingly interested in meaningless sexual encounters. With a slight shake of her head, Temperance quickly walked towards her dresser, pulling out a shirt and sweatpants. She hurriedly pulled out her key card, key and wallet out of her purse. She placed the single lovely daisy Booth had gotten her on her dresser, hoping that it would not be damaged by one of the extremely inebriated young men in her room.

"Hey Temperance," her roommate drunkenly slurred. "Grab a drink, cut loose. Boys aren't turned on by books you know."

Without turning to look at her, Temperance replied. "Thanks but no, I have some homework due tomorrow." She exchanged her flat white shoes for a pair of comfortable, utilitarian, moccasins.

Some shirtless boy grabbed her hip and attempted to grind against her, but she sidestepped him, picking up her backpack and swinging it over her shoulder. She pulled a hanger out of her closet, and headed out of the room.

She pulled the door behind her, briskly walking down to the bathroom. She stepped into a restroom stall, and pulled off her dress and hung it carefully on a hanger. She pulled on her tee-shirt and sweatpants, before exiting the stall. She pulled on her sweater over the tee-shirt and quickly rinsed her face.

_Guess I'm spending another night in McKeldin_, she ruefully thought. She pulled out a strip of paper towel from the dispenser and wiped her face quickly with it. As she left the bathroom, she saw Angela.

"Hey, Tempe, what's shakin'"

"I'm not sure. Currently, it could be a number of places experiencing minor earthquakes. The Pacific Rim is particularly susceptible to earthquakes."

"No, that's not what I meant. You know what, never mind. How was your date with Booth?"

"Angela, I have had no basis for comparison."

"Well, tell me what you feel. Was it romantic and wonderful?"

"Yes, it really was. I greatly enjoyed my time with him."

Temperance smiled widely, one which was returned enthusiastically by Angela.

A/N: I'm sorry I took so long to update. I'll try to be a little more regular over the next few months.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Between Wednesday night's date and a quick late lunch they had shared on Thursday afternoon, Booth had not seen Temperance for a long period of time. On Friday night, Booth was wishing he had a phone number at which he could contact her. He absently glanced at his TV, noting that nothing was happening during this baseball game. He began to doze off, the effects of two beers and a long day at school, house errands, and work taking its toll.

As he absently dozed on the couch, he was startled by his phone ringing. When he picked up the receiver, he mumbled, "Hello?"

"Hey Booth, this is Temperance."

"Hey Bones," his face broke out in a smile, his mood immediately lightening. _I think of calling her, and suddenly she calls me. It must be fate._

"Don't call me Bones," she retorted. "Anyways, I'm using my friend Angela's phone. She was nice enough to let me use it."

"That's good. I'm glad. So… what's up?"

"I was just wondering if you were free. I was working on my forensic medicine course and I could use some company. That is, if you're not busy."

"I'm not busy, per se, but I don't think I'm in any shape to be studying. It's been a long day. Do you want me to pick you up, and we can just hang out?"

"I don't want you to go out of your way. Do you live near a bus stop? I can take a UMD shuttle and meet you somewhere."

"Bones, you're a girl, it's late out, and you shouldn't be out like that."

"Booth, I can take care of myself. It's at most a twenty minute bus ride, and it's too much of an inconvenience for you to drive to campus, pick me up, and then drive back."

Booth yawned into the phone, forgetting to put a hand over the receiver. "Nah, it's no problem. I'll drink a cup of coffee and then come and pick you up."

"Booth, no, we'll meet some other time. You're tired and it's out of your way. I don't want you to be in any risk."

Booth relented, willing, but unable to pick her up. "All right, Bones, I'll let you win this time," he responded. "Why don't we meet up Sunday? I'm swamped tomorrow," he explained. He got up out of the bed and stretched, feeling the muscles in his back stretch. He twisted his torso, hoping to loosen the crick in his back. He heard a few bones pop, and groaned in relief. _God, my feet hurt. I should probably get a pair of more comfortable shoes. _

"Booth, are you ok? I heard you groan," Temperance questioned worriedly.

"I'm fine, Bones. Just stretching a little. It was a groan of relief." He walked into the tiny, galley-style kitchen. He reached into a cupboard, pulling out a glass. Turning on the faucet, he filled the glass with cool water.

"Don't call me Bones. And yes, Sunday is a good day for me. When are you free?"

"I'm free pretty much all day. How about noon? I can pick you up around that time, and we can grab lunch and then work somewhere."

Temperance twisted the cord around her fingers, "All right, that sounds fine. Where should we meet? McKeldin has a few group study rooms."

"McKeldin is the big library near the mall right?" Even after a week on campus, Booth had yet to find the exact location of all of the buildings.

"Yes, but Angela informed me that the library is likely to be filled on Sunday afternoons."  
>"We could always come back to my apartment. It's not very big, but I've got a table where we can work. I've got snacks, and no one can complain if we talk too loudly."<p>

"Or kiss in public."

"Whoa there Bones. You really don't mince words do you?"

"It's not possible to mince words. You can't chop up intangible things… Oh. Was I being too literal again?"

Booth chucked, "Just a tad, but it's who you are." He paused for a moment, before continuing, "I like it."

"Thank you. You're one of the few people to accept me for who I am. It's very liberating."

Booth was silent for a minute. "I'm… I'm glad I can. But I'm sorry for all those others who weren't accepting of you. You're a wonderful person Bones."

Temperance was quiet for a minute before whispering, her voice laden with emotion, "Thanks Booth."

Booth lingered on the phone, unwilling, even unable to give up the transient connection with the woman who had occupied his thoughts for much of the day.

* * *

><p>Saturday, during the day, Booth spent the day at work. He worked as a security guard (something which he referred to as a rent-a-cop) at the Food and Drug Administration, a research position about five miles from his apartment. He mostly worked afternoons and nights, and spent much of the time sitting in a room full of monitors. It was the easiest way to earn a little money to cover his expenses. He was fairly lucky in having gotten a job close enough to his apartment and one which allowed him to work around his classes.<p>

He was sitting in a dim room, sipping a cup of coffee, as he watched the closed-circuit cameras showing empty hallways and laboratories. During the weekends and nights, the building was mostly empty, except for a few janitorial staff and the occasional ambitious scientist._ A building full of squints_, Booth thought and he turned the page of his textbook.

He was highlighting the text, and taking notes in his notebook. Every thirty minutes, he had to get up and make physical rounds, walking around a small sector of the buildings. He rose, stretching and brushing off his slacks and he picked up his keys and flashlight. He locked up the room behind him and proceeded to walk back to the corridor.

For another five hours, Booth did much of the same, watching the monitors, walking the hallways, and reading his textbook in occasional minutes. Every few hours, he would grab a cup of coffee on his way back to the surveillance room.

A few hours before the end of the shift, one of the other guards, a middle-aged man named Andy stopped by. With his graying, scraggly beard and emerging potbelly, Andy was the image of a prototypical single man living with his mother. Booth often ribbed him about his living arrangements, but after tasting the lunch she had packed once, he had quickly realized why Andy still lived at home (and had a growing belly).

"Hey Booth," Andy greeted, walking into the surveillance room.

Booth swirled around in the office chair, greeting him in return.

At six pm, he swiped his card and signed out of the building. He briskly walked across the parking lot to his small car. When he reached, he quickly unlocked it. Tonight, he had several errands to run in order to get ready for Temperance to visit his apartment.

He drove down Cherry Hill road towards his apartment. On his way home he stopped at the grocery store. As he walked through the aisles, he was contemplating what Temperance would like. Their date had revealed little, if anything, about her preferences in food. When he had come here last week, he had bought a flower for Temperance. Today, he contemplated buying a bouquet, but couldn't decide on one. Nixing that idea, he continued to the produce section and picked up a few vegetables.

Booth went and picked up a few other groceries, including pasta, bread and a six-pack of beer. He proceeded to the checkout and paid for his purchases before exiting the store and loading his car. In the two-minute drive to his house, Booth contemplated whether to take Temperance for lunch at some restaurant, or just cook something at home. _It would be easier to just take her out somewhere, but I think my wallet will be glad if I just cook at home._ Deciding to just make some pasta at home, Booth drove into his parking lot. Retrieving his grocery bags and backpack from the trunk, Booth went to his building, swiping his access card and pushed the call button for the elevator.

As he stepped into the hallway of the fourth-floor apartment where he lived, he saw an elderly women walking to the house. He greeted her, "Hello Mrs. Hutchinson. How are you doing?"

The woman with a flash of bright white hair greeted back, as she spryly walked from Mrs. Dowling's apartment. The two elderly women got together on a regular basis to chat, sometimes baking cookies or other treats. When Booth had first moved into his apartment, the two ladies had surprised him with a loaf of banana bread and lemon cookies.

Booth unlocked his door and took his bags into the small kitchen. He quickly put the groceries in the fridge and placed the beer in the chiller. After glancing at the small clock on the living room wall, he decided to call Pops.

After three rings, a winded Hank Booth picked up the phone.

"Hey Pops," Booth greeted the silence.

"Hey Shrimp," the elder Booth wheezed. "Let me catch my breath here." Pops exhaled loudly, something which greatly worried Booth.

"You okay there, Pops? You don't sound too good."

"Ah, don't you worry about me. I was just taking out a load of laundry from the dryer and the phone is upstairs. I'm not as young as I used to be I guess."

Booth made a frustrated sound. "Pops, you should make Jared do all these things. You shouldn't be hauling laundry up and down the stairs." Though Hank Booth and Booth's younger brother, Jared, lived in a modest ranch home, the trips up and down the stairs were no longer as easy as they had been in earlier years.

"How's college, kiddo? Meet any new friends?"

Booth grumbled good-humoredly, "Pops, this isn't kindergarten. I can make friends. Besides, it isn't like I need a buddy to walk to the playground."

"That's not answering my question."

"Yeah, I've made friends. There are a couple of guys at work and from classes."

"Have you made any lady friends there, Booth? I remember this Rebecca gal you were dating all the time in high school."

"Pops…" Booth whined, carefully avoiding bringing up the topic of Temperance, knowing that it would bring on a slew of questions and advice for something still budding.

After a few minutes of conversation with his grandfather, Booth reluctantly hung up his phone on its wall mount. He took a few steps and launched himself onto the lumpy sofa.

Booth's grandfather had been the single parental figure in much of his formative years. After his father had left the two of them, Booth and his younger brother Jared, had moved in with their grandfather. From age ten until he had moved out, Booth had lived with his grandfather in the warm Harrisburg home.

Shaking off his reminiscences, Booth went to the living room and flicked on the small TV he had bought. As he listened to an evening recap of the day's baseball games and a preview of the quickly approaching football season, he dusted off some of furniture in the room. His apartment was tiny, barely five hundred square feet, with a small bedroom, an attached bathroom, a galley-style kitchen and a living-dining area. _The good thing about this place being tiny is that it takes ten minutes to clean._

Much of the furniture he had purchased at a second-hand store, using some of his savings from his Army days. A few rounds of poker against a couple of lowlifes had resulted in a couple thousand in winnings, which he was able to use to cover a few other expenses.

Booth finished up in the living room, and worked on taking some notes for his social psychology class. _Ugh, this has to be one of the more useless classes ever created._ When he had signed up for classes, Booth had picked a few which sounded like they were necessary.

* * *

><p>On Sunday, Booth woke up at just past eight in the morning. He yawned heartily, stretching his shoulders before crawling out of bed and quickly making his bed. He shuffled to the bathroom, glancing at his tired face in the small mirror. After taking care of some basic necessities, Booth went back into his room and picked up the jeans and uniform pants he had tossed over a chair. He cleared up the clothes which he had strewn around the room. After stowing them in either his hamper or his closet, he took his laundry down to his small washer and dryer.<p>

Booth considered the carpet for a minute before deciding that he ought to vacuum it. He stepped into the hallway and pulled open a closet door. He pulled out the vacuum cleaner and plugged it into the wall. He cleaned the floor for a few minutes before switching the noisy machine off.

He went into the living area, staking stray papers in perpendicular piles, according to subjects. He took the dirty dishes from his sink and the dining table and arranged them into the dishwasher. He set the dishwasher to run, and listened to the quiet hum of the water sloshing as he took out a few groceries to come to room temperature.

After putting his apartment to rights, he changed into a ratty old shirt and a pair of shorts. One of the best parts of living a little bit away from the highway leading to campus was that he could easily jog in the mornings. Other days, he could make use of the gym in the basement of the main building. They had enough weight machines and equipment to work on other parts of his fitness regime.

He ran for about an hour, taking the route from his apartment complex down past rows of single family homes, around a small lake, and back to his home. Winded, Booth was glistening in sweat when he entered his building. When he walked in, a few others were walking out and the women gave him an appreciative once-over. After returning to his unit, Booth toweled off and poured himself a large glass of water from the faucet. He gulped down the hydrating liquid.

After a quick shower and pulling on some neat clothes, Booth prepped a few vegetables and two chicken breasts to make into a pasta dish. He grabbed an onion and some garlic out of the small pantry. Reaching into a cabinet, he pulled out a chopping board and grabbed a knife from a drawer. He sliced the onion and chopped up the garlic. He went to the refrigerator and took out some other vegetables. He neatly chopped the rest and left them in neat piles on the chopping board. He covered the entire assembly with a towel and cleaned off his hands.

He noted that it was nearly time to pick Temperance up from her dorm. Though she had protested that she could much easily take the bus, and thus avoid inconveniencing him terribly, Booth had convinced her that it was much better for him to pick her up. He left his apartment and locked the door behind him. As he approached his car, he unlocked it and started it before reversing out of his parking space and moving out of the parking lot.

He reached her room in just under ten minutes, and saw her waiting with a tote bag slung over one shoulder on a bench outside her building. He quickly drove up to her, and unlocked the car doors to allow her in. She smiled as he approached and stood and stepped towards his car.

She opened the door and sat down in the seat, placing the bag on her lap. "Hey, Booth," she greeted, flashing him a warm smile. Unbeknownst to him, she had smiled more in the past week than she had for several months before. Sometimes, she caught herself as her mind wandered, smiling broadly at nothing.

Booth leaned over the gearbox, dropping a quick kiss on her lips, tasting the sweetness of her strawberry lip balm. _I'm so glad she's not a lipstick or lip gloss girl. That would get sticky._ He pulled back, smiling. She returned his smile with a dazed one of her own.

He turned the car to drive back to his apartment. "I'm glad to see you," he began.

"So, you ready to do this homework assignment?"

"I'm ready to tackle this. I've got a few fixings for lunch."

"That's not necessary. The diner only opens at eleven on weekends, and I found myself wanting to eat pancakes." She paused before admitting timidly, "They make chocolate chip pancakes, and those are my favorite."

"I'm a blueberry guy myself. But I figure you wouldn't be, since you don't like your fruit cooked right?" He grinned flirtatiously at her.

"Yes," Temperance smiled back.

Booth smiled back at her, before taking one hand off the steering wheel to reach for hers and clasp her small palm in his.

* * *

><p>Booth and Temperance walked into his building, and as they stepped into the foyer, he tangled his fingers with hers. When they arrived at his apartment, Booth unlocked the door and held open the door to allow her in.<p>

Wide beams of light filtered in through the vertical blinds, lighting up the entire space. She stepped in, and toed off her sandals in the linoleum entrance hall.

"So, just, uh, put your stuff wherever. We can use the table to work, or just use the couch, or something. Do you mind if I watch the game when I work?"

"I assume you are talking about football. Angela's current personal relationship is with a man on the football team. He's rather…" she grimaced before continuing, "Large. He's also quite interestend in consuming copious amounts of alcohol."

"Wait, your friend is dating a guy from the Maryland football team? That's pretty huge, Bones."

"Don't call me, Bones. I don't call you 'football' or something equally inane. Why is it significant that she's dating someone on the football team? It isn't as though he is exceptionally powerful or handsome."

"Well, what's his name?"

She tilted her head thoughtfully for a moment before suddenly remembering, "Oh! It's Greyson Barassa."

Booth sputtered at this revelation, recognizing the name of the All-ACC linebacker.

She glanced at the neat rows of vegetables and asked, "What are you making?"

"Ah, it's just a little pasta with some vegetables. Wanna help?" He twinkled his eyes at her.

"I've never really cooked before. I don't know if I can help you."

"Come on, you can stir." He gave her another flirty smile, attempting to sway her decision.

"All right. You know, you shouldn't be allowed to smile at me like that. It's very persuasive."

"Oh, Bones, you don't tell people things like that. That's like me giving away my secret ingredients."

"Oops." Temperance hopped up onto a clean stretch of countertop, having slipped off her shoes somewhere. "Just let me know what to do."

Booth pulled out a large skilled, and turned on the electric range underneath. He poured a little oil into the pan, and watching it begin to shimmer. He tossed in a few sliced red onions and heard the responding sizzle. He pulled a wooden spoon out of a drawer, and handed it to her. She pushed herself off the counter and went to stand next to him in front of the stove.

"I'm glad you like chocolate by the way."  
>Bones took the spoon and pushed the vegetables around a little. She watched as Booth dropped in what looked like a little salt and pepper.<p>

Turning to the other counter, Booth pulled out a mixing bowl and a measuring cup. Reaching into another cupboard, he pulled out a box of brownie mix. "I hope you like brownies, Bones." He turned on the faucet and allowed a little water to flow into the measuring cup. He

"I do like brownies. But like most things with chocolate, I find that if they are delicious, I have the tendency to overindulge."

"Have I told you that being around you has made my vocabulary so much better? If only I'd known you in high school."

"Why is that?"

Booth shrugged and grinned, not looking up from the process of stirring the box brownie mix together. "It's easier to learn vocab words for the SAT from a hot girl than flashcards."

"Hot as in sexually appealing or in reference to temperature, because I don't think I have a fever."

"The first one, Bones." At this, he turned her away from the stove, pulling her into his arms for a soft kiss.

He brushed his lips against hers, feeling her warm mouth pressed against his. When his tongue reached out, she allowed it entry, feeling the heat and restrained passion of his kisses. He brought his hand up from its position on her hip to her head, cradling it in his palm as he deepened the kiss. He stroked her silky hair through his fingers as he kissed her. She pressed against him, pushing her soft breasts against his chest and tangling her tongue with his. _Damn, she gives as good as she gets. _

They pulled apart, faces flaming and lips swollen. Both were nearly breathless and grinned shyly at each other. Booth cleared his throat and stepped away, his hands reluctant to let go of their position on her hip and tangled in her hair.

"Oh, that was nice."

Booth smirked back at her, "We can forget all about lunch if you want. There are more pleasant things to do."

She flushed and abruptly changed the subject, willing her face to stop flaming at every compliment he gave her. "So, which game are you watching?"  
>"Eh, right now, I'm just watching sports center." The fact that one half of the kitchen didn't have a wall meant that while cooking, Booth could easily watch TV. "It's a pretty good year. I mean, the Steelers are pretty much always good, and there are a couple of good rookies worth watching. There's this guy, his name's Peyton Manning, who's in his rookie season. That guy is hands down amazing. I'm looking forward to seeing what he can do."<p>

"Are these games very tiresome? I went to a baseball game during freshman year and found it to be rather boring."

Booth gave her a baffled look. "Come on, Bones. Baseball is the American pastime. It's like apple pie."

"That is your opinion. Is football as boring?"  
>"You won't know until you try. Hey, do me a favor and toss in the carrots and zucchini would you? Booth reached above the fridge and pulled down a square pan and brushed it off with a kitchen towel. He tore off a piece of foil and sprayed it with aerosolized oil before pouring the brownie mix into the pan and placing it in the oven.<p>

* * *

><p>Booth lounged on the couch, his feet stretched out in front of him. Snuggled into his side was a dozing Bones, warm and soft against his chest and arm. She was clearly drowsy, and an afternoon of explaining football to her had been interesting (to say the least).<p>

Temperance had had little to no experience watching football, and was enthusiastic in learning about the sport. All in all, they had spent little to no time working on schoolwork. They had watched the Steelers win an ugly one against the Ravens. (Temperance had been fascinated by the origin of the team names and correctly presumed that the Steelers referenced the city's steel industry and the Ravens name was an allusion to Edgar Allan Poe's poem.) Most of the commercial breaks had been spent hanging out and absently chatting about everything and nothing.

He could see the light waning and the sky turn to a shade of pale orange as dusk set in, but Booth couldn't force himself to leave from the comfortable position of Temperance in his arms. _If only we could stay like this forever. _


End file.
